Saoirse chooses the Lekki-Ikoyi Link Bridge. Of course she does.
“It is six kilometres of Lagos and you choose a bridge.”
“It has a pedestrian path.”
“So do other places.”
“You’re an architect. Try to enjoy yourself.”
The morning is already warm. We walk without discussing the Council for the first ten minutes. It feels deliberate. I appreciate it. A runner passes us. Cars move in steady streams on the road beside us. Water catches the early light below.
“My father grew up in Ibadan,” Saoirse says.
I look at her.
“You said Adeyemi.”
“He moved to Ireland at twenty-two. Met my mother there.”
“That explains Walsh.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
She smiles. That is all I learn about her family that morning. It is enough. On the second day, I meet Kareem alone. He shows me records Dr Vale did not. The two previous undesignated charts were declared errors because neither person lived long enough for the Council to understand the pattern. One died in a war. The other disappeared after refusing continued observation.
“So your sample size is me.”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.”
“I said I would be honest.”
“You are doing wonderfully.”
He almost laughs. Then he grows serious.
“You are not required to become what we think you may be.”
“Then why all this?”
“Because it is already happening.”
That is the sentence I carry into the third day. I spend most of it alone. I visit a building my firm consulted on years ago, before I moved fully to Edinburgh. I walk through the lobby and see the same thing I now see everywhere. People arriving from different directions. Paths crossing. Open space in the middle. I have been drawing connection into buildings for years without thinking about it. That evening, my father calls from Istanbul.
“You sound tired,” he says.
“Everyone keeps telling me that.”
“Then perhaps everyone is right.”
His Turkish accent gets stronger when he is worried. I tell him most of what the Council said. He listens without interrupting. When I finish, he asks only one question.
“If nobody had a name for this, would you still want to understand it?”
I sit with that. Because beneath the Council, the history and my anger, there is curiosity. My own.
“Yes.”
“Then understand it.”
The next morning, I return to the Council. Saoirse is already there. Dr Vale looks at me.
“Have you decided?”
“Yes.”
I take the seat opposite her.
“One test.”
She nods.
“My terms.”
Her expression tightens slightly. I continue.
“No designation. No oath. No decisions made about me without me in the room. If Saoirse says stop, we stop.”
Saoirse turns toward me. I keep my eyes on Dr Vale. After a moment, she agrees. The test begins at noon.